by J. L. Fynn
CHAPTER FIVE
“WAIT RIGHT HERE,” Judd said. He glared at me, though the greenish tint to his skin and his puffy eyes made him considerably less threatening than he meant to be. A purple bruise roped around his throat, and his hand was bandaged.
“Right here, Prince?” I asked, pointing to my feet. “So here isn’t okay?” I slid several inches across the thick Oriental rug that carpeted the Sheedy’s foyer.
Judd pursed his lips, and his nostrils flared. “Real funny, smartass. Stay here in the hall.”
“What’s a matter, Prince? Not feeling so good this morning?” I knew goading him would only get me in more trouble, but since I’d been summoned by Pop this morning, I figured this might be the last chance I’d ever get to mess with him.
“My hangover will be gone in a few hours, and with any luck, you’ll be gone a few minutes after my dad gets his hands on you. So, all in all, I’d say I’m feeling pretty good.” He turned to walk away but then apparently decided taunting me was too fun to abandon. “And don’t touch anything, Buffer. I know you’re not used to having all this expensive stuff around. We don’t need your filthy handprints all over everything.” A malicious grin spread across his face. He turned his back again and disappeared down the long corridor.
“What an ass,” I said under my breath, then pressed my palm against a framed mirror that hung on the wall beside me. When I pulled it back, a smudged handprint appeared on its otherwise impeccably clean surface. I knew it was juvenile, that I might as well have stuck my tongue out at Judd’s retreating form, but the act of disobedience felt good anyway.
I scanned my surroundings. I’d never been invited to the Sheedy home before, and this wasn’t how I’d imagined it happening. Best case scenario, I was in for one hell of a lecture, but Pop had always been a man of few words. More likely, his three other sons would get a chance to finish the fight their youngest brother had started last night. I cursed my own stupidity for the hundredth time and vowed again to both drink less at parties and start listening to my brother’s advice where women were concerned.
Despite Judd’s admonishment to stay put, I wandered down the hall a ways, cautiously looking around at the ostentatious décor of the Sheedy mansion. Religious icons abounded, displayed in the form of paintings; wall-mounted crucifixes; and a side table where the Holy Mother stood on a white lace doily, flanked by St. Bridget and St. Jude, each on their own clouds of lace.
On one side of the hall was a set of double doors, which were closed, muffling the voices of the people behind them. I paused in my exploration, convinced I’d heard my name spoken from inside the room. The voices fell silent, and I moved away from the door quickly, afraid I’d be caught eavesdropping.
The double doors swung open, and Rosie stepped out. When she saw me waiting in the hall, she stopped abruptly. We stared at each other for a moment.
She smiled, and after a second, I grinned back. “Hey. Are you okay?”
She glanced into the room she’d just stepped from, then without a word, sprinted up the stairs. I stared after her, debating whether her smile had been a positive sign or if she’d just heaped all the blame for last night on me and was happy she’d gotten away without punishment.
“Come in here and have a seat, Shay.”
My heart thudded in my ears at the sound of Pop’s voice coming from inside the room. I could only guess what he’d been told already. If I was here for a scolding, I’d apologize and ask what I could do to make it up to the clan. If I was here for a beating, I’d take it like a man and maybe get in a few good licks myself. I squared my shoulders and attempted to look a lot calmer than I felt, then walked into the office with as much confidence as I could muster.
“Close the doors behind you,” Pop said.
He sat behind a huge mahogany desk that filled the center of the room, and I got the feeling this was what appearing before a judge would feel like. I pulled the doors shut and slid into the seat across from him. I glanced around, still trying to decide how to begin. My eyes landed on a framed picture mounted on the wall. It wasn’t the clumsily painted watercolor seascape that had caught my attention, but the fact that one side of the gilt frame had separated from the wall several inches. Pop followed my gaze to the wall behind him, then reached out and pushed the painting back into place. He cleared his throat and turned back to me.
Showtime. “I know my brother and I behaved badly last night,” I said, but Pop put up a hand to stop me.
“Shay, I didn’t send for you to get an apology. No one was hurt, and nothing was damaged. I know you boys were letting off a little steam.” He flashed a patriarchal smile. “Gotlath noks yahr. And with four sons, I know that better than anyone.”
I was familiar with the saying, but I rarely spoke the secret cant of the Travelers and had to search my memory for its meaning. It came to me after a second.
“Youth likes to wander,” I said back in English. “I’m not entirely sure what you mean, sir.” This seemed too easy. He wasn’t angry enough, and I wondered if Rosie had lied for me or for herself.
“I suppose that’d be my way of saying young people will sometimes stray from their path, but it’s not the end of the world.” He chuckled. “Youth likes to wander, Shay. Sometimes it can lead to drinking a little too much at a party and picking a fight. Sometimes it can lead to a small indiscretion behind a trailer.”
I sucked in a sharp breath. My mind raced with all the explanations I’d made up during the restless period between last night and this morning, but none of them seemed right now.
The old man barked with laughter. “You look like a fresh-caught fish,” he said.
“Sir, I’m not sure what—” I stopped. What did he know? What had Rosie and Judd told him?
“If you have something to say, sublia—” Pop used the cant word for boy. “—now’s the time to say it.”
I felt like my stomach was full of stones. If I were caught in a lie, it would only make things worse. “I know I shouldn’t have left the pavilion with Rosie last night, sir,” I said to my knees. “I guess I just got caught up in the celebration and all. Prince had every right to try and whoop me for it, but I swear it’ll never happen again.”
To my surprise, Pop Sheedy laughed again, so hard tears welled in the corner of his eyes.
“Shay, are you so naïve as to believe I didn’t notice the two of you sneaking off? We protect our children in this clan, even when all they need protection from is their own hormones.” He erupted into another round of rasping laughter, slapping his palm onto his desk with a loud thwack. “Believe me when I say, I wouldn’t have let either of you get into too much trouble.”
I shifted uncomfortably in the rigid chair, wondering how closely he’d been watching. “So I’m not in trouble?” I asked when Pop Sheedy had finally stopped guffawing at his own cleverness.
“You’re not in trouble, and that son of mine was awfully sorry to hear it. But there’s one reason you haven’t been dragged for this and one reason only.”
I stiffened. Dragging was what I’d been most afraid of—more than getting my ass kicked by all four Sheedy boys. Dragging meant rumors, open hostility, and shunning. It would ruin any chance I had of improving my position in the clan. It would ruin my entire family. “What reason?”
“The reason is this: I think you could be a great asset. I’ve watched you since you were a tiny thing, and it’s clear to me you’ve got…” He paused as if searching for the right word, “…potential. Tomorrow, you’re getting an opportunity to prove I’m right in keeping your little slip-up quiet. An arrangement was made to sell a trailer to a fella down in Terrebonne Parish.”
I frowned. “Don’t trailer sales usually take a while to set up?”
“Wedding plans weren’t the only thing happening this week. We put an ad in the papers a few days ago hoping a gull would bite while everyone was back home for the celebration, and it looks like we had a bit of luck. You’ll be headed down there first thing tomor
row morning with Jimmy Boy.”
“Yes, sir,” I said. This was exactly the opportunity I’d been waiting for. Jimmy Boy and I had run our fair share of driveway paving scams and pigeon drops, but we’d never had the means to get into trailer sales. My excitement threatened to overwhelm me, but I tried to keep my body still and voice steady. “Pop, I want you to know how grateful I am for this chance. I don’t think I can tell you how much it means to me.”
Pop Sheedy nodded. “Well, if this works out the way I think it will, you’ll be bringing in your fair share in no time. Jimmy Boy may not be the best con there is, but I’m confident you’ve learned what you need to from him.”
“I won’t disappoint you, Pop.” I sprang to my feet. “I promise. Gestena. Thank you so much.”
Pop Sheedy waved a hand, shooing me away. “G’on, get out of here.”
I bolted for the door before the old man could change his mind. I practically sprinted through the foyer and out the front door, slowing only once I’d made it down the porch steps and back to the macadam.
This was it—and only the beginning. First one trailer sale for Pop, then who knows what next? As I walked back to the trailer, I imagined taking Maggie to dinner every night and the new truck I’d buy for Jimmy Boy. He’d warned me about my ambition, but even he couldn’t be sour about this opportunity.
I still wasn’t quite sure why Pop was being so kind to me or what “potential” he saw, but questioning it wouldn’t do me much good. One thing was certain, though. I was being given the opportunity I’d been waiting for, and there was no way in hell I was going to screw it up.
CHAPTER SIX
JIMMY BOY JOGGED down the gull’s driveway back toward where I sat on the edge of the truck’s bench seat. The door was open just enough for my leg to poke through, and I kept it from swinging wider by bracing it with one hand as if it were a shield between me and potential disaster. I tried to relax. Being tense or seeming nervous would be a sure sign something about this deal was off, and it could tank the whole thing. All I needed to do was relax, talk fast, and keep him from looking too closely at the trailer.
“Okay,” Jimmy Boy said, gripping the door through the open window. “He’s coming down to have a look. All you need to do is give him a good story about why we’re selling this thing in such a hurry and at such a good price. Got it?”
I nodded. “So what’s the story?”
“I don’t know, but you better think of one quick,” Jimmy Boy said, wrenching the door open and pulling me along with it. “Because he’s coming.”
Panic began to well up in my throat, and I fought to keep my breath even. Don’t fuck this up, I reminded myself. This is your shot.
“You’ll be fine. Tell him you knocked up your girlfriend and need the money to help her with the baby.” Jimmy Boy chuckled when I scowled at him. “Whatever you tell him is fine as long as you make it sound good and convincing.”
I moved away from the truck and shut the door, then turned to see a heavy-set man plodding down the driveway. He had thin black hair that hung over his forehead in greasy strings. He reached us and ran a hand through it, extending the same hand to me. I hesitated a moment, then took it and gave it a quick shake, afterward surreptitiously wiping my palm on the leg of my jeans.
“So you’re the one selling the trailer, that right?”
“Yes, sir,” I said, though the words came out louder than I’d intended. I glanced at my brother who relaxed against the front of the truck with his arms crossed. He urged me on with a jerk of his head. “It’s a real wrench to give her up, especially for so much less than she’s worth, but it’s the only thing I have that I can get any money for. You know how the economy is. No one’s buying trailers these days.”
The man leaned back to have a better look at the travel trailer still hitched to the old truck. He narrowed his eyes and shifted his head from side to side. “Looks brand-new. Why you in such a hurry to sell it?”
I thought quickly. “My wife and I,” I said, slipping my empty left hand into the pocket of my jeans. “We’re expecting our first baby this winter, and you know how it goes. Kid’s costing me a fortune, and it ain’t even been born yet.”
The lie rolled off my tongue as easily as the thick twang I used to speak it. I glanced at Jimmy Boy, who flashed an amused grin before putting up a hand to hide it, pretending to scratch at the scruff on his jawline.
Feeling bolder, I pressed on. “You wouldn’t believe what doctors charge just to keep us waiting for an hour, and that’s a bargain compared to the price of this fancy baby carriage my wife wants. I’ll be broke in a month if I don’t pull in some more money soon.”
“That’s just awful,” the man said, though nothing in his tone indicated he actually felt sorry for me. He continued his appraisal of the trailer as he spoke. “So if you ain’t got money for the baby, where’d you get a trailer so state-of-the-art?”
From a scrapyard, I thought, though obviously I wouldn’t tell him that. In truth, the trailer was only worth the five to six hundred that had been put into making it appear as though it were worth thousands. This was why it was so important I made the sale quickly before the buyer decided to take a closer look.
“Wedding gift,” I said. “From my in-laws. They’ve got money and offered to help with the baby, but I don’t take charity.”
The man finally looked at me. I knew I had him on the hook, and now all I had to do was reel him in. “So, you get a good deal, and I get to buy my wife all the baby stuff she wants. It’s win-win.”
“Women, eh?” he said, and I grinned. Something had told me this particular buffer didn’t think much of the fairer sex, and I was glad to see I’d been right. “Well, son,” he went on, “it looks like she’ll be getting her over-priced buggy. Though if you were smart, you’d tell her I jewed you down some and pocket the difference.”
I forced a laugh as I took his greasy hand in mine again. We shook on the deal, and as soon as he handed me the money, I jumped in the truck and slammed the door, happy to be out of his company.
* * *
“Brother, you are slicker than owl shit.” Jimmy Boy shot me a look filled with both pride and wonder before returning his eyes to the road. “I thought you’d lost him at first, but he sure came around fast.”
“Yeah, well, imagine what I could do if you actually gave me a heads up before I made the sale.”
“It’s good practice for thinking on your feet. Quick thinking is a Traveler’s best asset.”
The first few notes of “Brown-Eyed Girl” came through the truck’s speakers. My hand shot out and turned it off almost as a reflex.
“What was that?” Jimmy Boy asked. “I thought you love Van Morrison.”
“I do.”
“Then why’d you turn it off?”
“The man had almost forty albums, but somehow ‘Brown-Eyed Girl’ is the only song anyone knows. It makes me sad.”
“Aww, how sensitive. You gonna cry about it?”
“Shut up.” I smacked the thick envelope in my palm, wanting to change the subject. “This is the biggest score we’ve brought in so far. How much you think Pop will let us keep? A thousand—maybe two?”
“I wouldn’t go making any big plans just yet. We weren’t much more than errand boys. We’ll be lucky if we get back the gas money we used getting down here and back.”
I made a faint noise of disgust at the back of my throat. “Seems like a waste if that’s the truth. I know it wasn’t our trailer, but we should get paid for our time at least.”
“You should be happy Pop trusted you to do this at all. You’re never satisfied, Shay, and that’s going to get you in trouble.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
I STOOD ON the postage-stamp-sized front deck of the trailer and stretched muscles that were stiff from another night spent in the foldout bed I’d outgrown years ago. The events in Terrebonne Parish had boosted my confidence. My indiscretion with Rosie hadn’t come back to bite me in the ass, and my
reputation as a buffer was fading, too. My cousin, Pete, had already stopped by to congratulate me on a job well done, and he’d heard about my success straight from Pop Sheedy himself.
A ladybug landed on the front of my shirt. When I brushed it away, it took flight, heading northeast. I couldn’t help but think of Mary Sheedy’s confidence that her husband would be from Georgia, thanks to a ladybug that probably hadn’t made it past the woods before getting eaten by a bird. I chuckled to myself as I stepped off the porch and crossed to the picnic table.
The day promised to be a scorcher, and I made a mental note to sleep outside that night rather than in the stuffy confines of the tin can Maggie called a home. I straddled one of the benches and blew a sharp whistle through my teeth. Yeats padded over and slipped his head into my lap, patiently waiting for a scratch.
“Morning, boy.” I dug my fingers into the folds behind his ears. “Where’s Beckett?”
I’d named the dogs after discovering the Irish writers in a freshman English class. With their grizzled and scraggly appearance, the names seemed fitting. Yeats lifted his head and huffed, clearly annoyed he was once again tasked with finding his errant companion. I chuckled as he lumbered away and disappeared around the side of the trailer.
The sound of an approaching vehicle made me turn in my seat. A black car pulled up to the trailer, slowing to a stop in front of our blue pickup, which looked even older and shabbier next to the glittering Mercedes. All the doors opened, and Pop Sheedy hoisted himself out of the car with aid of the doorframe. He was soon followed by all four of his sons. Judd was the last to appear from the car, glowering as he emerged from the driver’s side. The age range of the Sheedy boys spanned almost two decades. Mike, named after his father and so referred to simply as “Sonny,” was the oldest at 38, but his plump face made him look only a few years older than his youngest brother. His young appearance was even more stark when he was next to his craggy wife, who thankfully wasn’t with him today. All four of them seemed to be cut from the same cloth, each hovering right around six feet tall, with broad shoulders; coal black hair; and the same wide-set, milky blue eyes.
